


How Did He Die?

by SingingInTheRaiin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail is adopted by Hannibal, Bonding over books, Gen, Ghosts, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal has some kind of psychic ability, Kidnapping, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Stockholm Syndrome, Time Travel, Will breaks them, Will does not appreciate the 'killing your gays' trope, Will is obviously the major character death, Will knows many languages, playing with knives is dangerous, some people find it confusing to find a very old corpse wearing modern flannel, some professors are bad at their job, some typical ghost hijinks, technically, time travel rules and regulations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 22:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18456224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingInTheRaiin/pseuds/SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: "There were many different theories about how he had died. Ever since his bones had been dug up, the local university would have an option every year where the students were allowed to write a thesis paper about his life, and more importantly, his death, and if the paper was written well enough, it would count for a course worth of credits for them. Most of the papers weren’t good enough, because they’d just been thrown together last minute. Some of them were pretty good, though, and impressed Will with their creative and intelligent thinking. All of them were wrong, though."Will is a ghost trapped in small spaces, and Hannibal is a man who discovers that he may be capable of communicating with the dead. Hannibal is eager to take Will home as something of an experiment, though it quickly becomes far more to him.





	How Did He Die?

There were many different theories about how he had died. Ever since his bones had been dug up, the local university would have an option every year where the students were allowed to write a thesis paper about his life, and more importantly, his death, and if the paper was written well enough, it would count for a course worth of credits for them. Most of the papers weren’t good enough, because they’d just been thrown together last minute. Some of them were pretty good, though, and impressed Will with their creative and intelligent thinking. All of them were wrong, though.

The advising professor who always worked with students on their papers about Will was giving the student in front of him a raised eyebrow. “Suicide. You think that a body with a knife hole in the back of the clothing committed suicide?”

The student shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He could have stabbed himself in the front with a sword and it could have gone all the way through to stab out from the other end.” It could almost work, but it was clear that the front of Will’s shirt hadn’t been damaged by a sharp weapon, and the crack on some of his bones in the back made a pretty strong case for a big knife through the back at an angle that would be impossible for a person to attack themself at. 

“Get out of my classroom,” the professor said in a pained voice.

Will snickered as he watched the student slink away. He watched over the professor’s shoulder as he put together his lesson plan for his next few classes. Aside from student meetings, it was the most exciting thing to happen throughout Will’s days, unfortunate as that was. When he got bored of it, he started pacing around the room. One of the benefits of being dead was not having to worry about stamina anymore.

Eventually, the professor packed up his things, turned off the lights, and went home. Will sighed, and went to lie down on top of the professor’s desk, slamming his head down on it a few times before staying still. He couldn’t actually sleep, but at least he could stare up at the stained ceiling tiles. What a joy.

,,,

When the lights turned back on, Will got up, and watched the janitor bustle around the room to sweep up and change the trash bag. When the professor didn’t show up soon after, Will knew that it must be a weekend. He ended up losing track of the days more often than not, but he could remember that the professor rarely ever came in on the weekends.

Will was in the middle of practicing a sword fight that he’d seen in a movie one time, when the door opened, and Will looked over. The professor was walking, along with another man who Will didn’t recognize. “I’m sorry for calling you here on a Saturday morning, Dr. Lecter, but I had the feeling that this might be exactly what you’re looking for.” He gestured to the glass case on the wall that contained Will’s remains. “We call him Scottie. He was found in France, and it’s suspected that he died sometime around 300 BCE. But the funny part about that is his clothing. Of course you have to be very careful when handling artifacts this old, but I’ve had people examine some of the clothing fibers, and there’s been multiple people who have come to the conclusion that it seems to be made of modern textiles.”

That was still something Will cursed himself for. It had been a rookie mistake, honestly. He’d been in too much of a hurry, and hadn’t taken the time to stow his clothes somewhere safe and found something more fitting for the time period. And he was normally so good about it. “Fascinating,” Dr. Lecter said in the tone of a man who wasn’t actually sure that it was fascinating at all. “I can assure you, I would take excellent care of him, if I decide that he’s right for my exhibit.”

The professor had a strangely nervous smile on his face, and Will tilted his head, wondering what was wrong with the man. He leaned closer to Dr. Lecter, and spoke in a hushed whisper. “Scottie is very special.” He glanced around the room, as if making sure that it was truly empty of onlookers before continuing. “Sometimes, I feel like he’s watching me. Laughing at me. I got him about four years ago, and in that time, we’ve always offered students the chance to write a thesis on him, most often on how he died. No one knows the real answer with any kind of certainty, but when there are more ridiculous answers given, I almost think that I can hear him laughing at me.”

Will walked closer, intrigued by the idea that the professor had been somewhat aware of his presence all this time. Dr. Lecter looked interested as well, even though most people would probably think that the professor was just going crazy to believe in ghosts, or sentient skeletons, or whatever it was that he was trying to imply. 

“Would you mind giving me the room for a moment?” the doctor asked politely. “I need a few minutes to study the remains before I can make my decision. You are asking for quite a lot of money.”

Will snorted. So this was just a sales deal? No wonder it was on the weekend, and the professor looked so twitchy. Will’s skeleton was the property of the university, as irritating as that could be at times, which meant that the professor wouldn’t be able to just sell it off to an independent third party. He wasn’t even the head of his department.

The professor nodded, and said ‘of course’ way more times than necessary, and then shuffled out of the classroom. Dr. Lecter gently closed the door, and then turned around. But instead of facing the display case, he turned to look at Will directly. “So are you Scottie, then?”

In the entire time he’d been here (apparently four years, though it felt simultaneously like way more and way less than that) nobody had ever made any indication that they were able to see Will. And he’d done quite a number of ridiculous things just to make sure that there was really no one reacting to it. He tried not to look too surprised, though. “Will, actually. Unfortunately I wasn’t wearing a nametag when I died.” Well, technically he was, if a driver’s license in his wallet counted. But that had been stolen ages ago. “And you are?”

The man smiled, and it had something of a shark-like effect. “Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, and then Will leaned back against the wall behind him. “So is there a reason you’re trying to make an under the table deal for a haunted corpse? No offense, but you don’t exactly look like a museum curator, no matter what you might have led the professor to believe.”

“You’re right, I’m not. I am a psychiatrist in Baltimore.” He paused for a moment, giving Will a long look, before actually answering the question. “I was at a wake recently. A patient of mine tragically passed away, murdered right in front of me by his best friend. As I approached the casket, I realized that I could see my patient walking through the crowd, asking people to look at me. His reaction to seeing me was…” he trailed off, and then shook his head once. “I grew curious, as obviously no one else could see him. I had a full panel of tests run at the hospital, but I was declared perfectly fit, so I came to the conclusion that I was actually seeing a ghost of my late patient. I wandered the graveyard, but encountered no other ghosts. That’s when I saw your professor’s advertisement, and decided to try my luck.” 

Will sighed, and leaned back to bang his head against the wall. “It’s the walls. Whatever room our body is in, is the one we’re stuck in. An open casket at a wake means being stuck in that viewing room. But graveyards are outside, which means that they can wander anywhere they want, other than going inside anywhere, so they were probably all long gone from there.”

“You sound frustrated, Will. Do you feel trapped in this room?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Well I did spend almost 2300 years being able to roam the world freely, only to one day find myself suddenly in this room with no ability to leave it. I don’t think there’s anyone who wouldn’t go a little stir crazy from that.” Then he started forward, to get a closer look at Dr. Lecter. “Well now that you’ve confirmed you can see ghosts, what are you going to do next?”

Ah, Will should have known that Dr. Lecter would be the type of person to answer questions with other questions. “Is there a reason you sound and look so remarkably modern when you have been dead 2300 years?”

Will shrugged. “I’ve been able to silently observe human beings for a couple thousand years. Of course I’m going to adapt over that time to what I’m surrounded by most often.”

“And yet your clothing is made from modern textiles?”

Will groaned. “Why are you pushing this, dude? It’s a bit unfair to barrage me with questions after I already told you that I can’t run away.”

There was a beat of silence, and then it was broken by rapid knocking on the classroom door. “Dr. Lecter? Is everything alright in there?” Then he opened the door to peer in, looking around slowly. Obviously looking for whoever Lecter might have been talking to. Will reached into Lecter’s pocket to pull out his cell phone, and push it into Lecter’s hand. His fingers wrapped around it, and then he turned to face the professor, phone in hand. The professor looked nervously at the phone. “Who were you just talking to? You can’t tell anyone about this deal!” he added in a shrill voice.

Lecter tapped against his phone screen as if he were hanging up on a call, and then slipped it back into his pocket. “I was not, I assure you. It was an emergency call from my daughter that I deemed necessary to take. As for our deal, I accept it.” He pulled a checkbook out from the inner pocket of his jacket, and started filling it out. Will watched over his shoulder to see how much he was worth. 

He let out a disappointed sigh at the number. “Hey, I’m a rare commodity. I can’t believe the professor didn’t ask for more for me.”

Lecter’s shoulder moved slightly, and Will realized that he was refraining from reacting. He grinned as it occurred to him just how fun this might to turn out to be. Lecter handed over the check, and then the professor helped him carry the entire heavy display case out of the room. Will followed along behind them, looking around eagerly at his surroundings. He had seen it all on the way in, along with a few other small rooms he’d been stuck in right after the discovery, but that had been years ago and he’d been too depressed to bother taking any of it in. 

There were so many interesting display cases and paintings hanging in the hallway, and Will lagged behind to look at it all closely. Between one blink and the next, Will was suddenly in the elevator, where there was barely enough space for three grown men and a big container of bones. He refrained from pouting about how much he hated being forced into new rooms.

When they got outside, Will was tempted to just turn and run away. But there wouldn’t be much point, since he’d just be dragged into the truck within minutes anyways. He did take advantage of the chance to take in the fresh air, though. The professor never opened the tiny window in his office. 

The display case was loaded into a truck, and Will had to pace around in the back of the truck for the duration of the ride. He glanced down at his watch to see how much time had passed, before berating himself for giving into habit, since his watch had stopped working as soon as he died. Well, the version he was wearing as a ghost had stopped working, anyways.

But finally, the back of the truck opened up, and Will watched Lecter struggle somewhat to get the case out on his own. “It is rude of you to not offer your help here. You already held my phone, so I know you’re capable of interacting with physical objects.

Will snorted. “Sure, but what’s my motivation for helping you? Do I go from one cramped little room to another?” Then he sighed, and sank down to sit on the floor of the truck. “I can’t help. We can’t move our own anchors.”

Lecter managed to get the case out of the truck and onto the ground without breaking it, and then turned to look at Will again, who was now standing outside, kicking his shoes off to enjoy the feeling of grass squishing beneath his feet. “So what would happen if your remains were in multiple locations? If not all of it had been collected at the dig site?”

“Ah, sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. The bones are not my anchor. It’s different for everyone, but it’s almost never any actual organic material. A person’s main connection to the world isn’t usually their own body, because that’s just weird. I mean, there’s probably some freak out there who was just really connected to their femur, but that doesn’t happen very often.”

“So what is your anchor, then?”

Will grinned. “I’m not telling you.”

Lecter tilted his head to the side. “Why not? Would destroying it erase your connection to the world?”

Will shook his head. “Not that I know of. But it’s not like it’s super convenient ask anyone.”

“Are there no other ghosts nearby?”

Will shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the one who can see ghosts, not me.”

That seemed to take Lecter by surprise, and several seconds passed before he spoke again. “So how do you know about anchors, and what is different for other ghosts?”

“Back when I had the ability to roam freely, I encountered other people who could see ghosts, and they would set up little ‘conventions’, if you will. Acted as a conduit between large groups of us so that we could communicate. And I do know that there were other people in the room, because we can still feel each other, and did a lot of hugging and hand shaking. Being dead can get pretty lonely.”

Lecter gave the case a long look. “I’ll admit, it would be easier if you could tell me which piece is your anchor, but I suppose I’d have to leave it in the case anyways. Any artifact so old would not do well to be touched by bare hands.”

It took some time, but eventually the case had been moved inside, and was standing proudly along the wall in a large dining room. Overall, it was probably about the same amount of space he’d had in the classroom, but at least it looked nicer and had more interesting things to look at, though Will was sure he’d grow bored of it soon enough.

He watched with wide eyes as Lecter left the room and returned with white gloves on. “I do apologize, but I suppose that in this case, I am just very curious.” He carefully opened the case, and took the small scrap of Will’s shirt, then stepped into the kitchen. When nothing happened, he put it back, and took one of the bones.

Will sat down in one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs that surrounded the table. With this method, it was impossible that Lecter wouldn’t figure it out, so Will might as well save the man some time. On the other hand, though, Lecter hadn’t really done anything to deserve that courtesy, so Will decided to just sit and watch as the doctor walked back and forth between rooms with each individual item from the case.

He picked up a small satchel, and Will cleared his throat. “Don’t open it.” He knew that his voice came out too harshly for someone asking a favor, but he couldn’t help it. “My anchor is in that bag, but I ask that you don’t look inside. Please.” 

Both men stared at each for a long moment, and then Lecter put the bag back down. “Tell me, were you considered a giant by your family and friends? The average heights of men even in the early eighteen hundreds was just a little over five feet, and your body is thousands of years older than that.”

Will could see that he was being asked to make an exchange. If he gave Lecter some information, Lecter would obey his wishes by not looking in the bag. Though if Will answered honestly, it might only incite the doctor’s curiosity further. But Will couldn’t see what other choice he had. “I’m average height for when I was born. 1981. I made an amateur mistake because I was in a hurry, and that’s why I was found with all those modern clothes on. If I’d known that I was about to be dug up, I would have grabbed all of the clothes and gotten rid of them elsewhere before anyone found me, but I was on the other side of the world at the time, and if the clothes just vanished right in front of them, I’m sure that someone would have noticed and said something about it.” He laughed at the look of disbelief in Lecter’s eyes. “You can see ghosts, but you draw the line at time travel?”

Lecter blinked once, and then nodded. “You’re right, I have no reason to not believe you.” He looked at the old bag pointedly. “What is in there is important to you if it’s your anchor, right?”

Will nodded once. “More than anything.” 

Before he could say anything more about it, or maybe try to force Lecter to promise out loud that he wouldn’t look, he heard the sound of the front door to the house opening. There were a few seconds of someone shuffling around, and then footsteps getting slightly closer. “Dad! I’m home!”

“I’m in the dining room, Abigail.” A moment later, a young woman walked into the room. She looked nothing like Lecter, though Will knew better than most people about unconventional families, and this wasn’t even close. “How was your day?”

She sank down into the seat right next to Will, though her eyes had passed right over him. “It was alright. That annoying lady who always leaves like a single penny for a tip was there again, barking orders at me like she’s my boss or something.” Her eyes landed on the new display case, and she wrinkled her nose. “Uh, maybe this is a stupid question, but why do you have a skeleton in the dining room? Please tell me that those aren’t somebody’s real bones.”

“You know I don’t believe that you could ever ask a stupid question,” Lecter told her in a fond sounding voice. “They belong to quite a fascinating man.”

She didn’t look like she believed that that could be true. “Could this interesting man of yours maybe be moved into a room that we don’t eat in?” Then she cracked a small smile. “And by the way, when I told you that you needed to put yourself out there and find someone, I did mean someone living. Sorry for not clarifying sooner. “

Lecter rolled his eyes, though he did look amused. “I will remind you that I am far too busy a man to search for any kind of relationship. And you don’t need to worry about me.”

Abigail snorted. “You’re not going to be able to say anything that will convince me to not be worried. I’m going to be in college in a few months, and you’re going to be in this big house all alone with just bones for company.”

“I think he’ll have more company than he can handle,” Will told the girl with a laugh, even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear it. 

Lecter gave Will a warning look, but Will didn’t think that there was anything that could be done to actually follow through with threats. What was Lecter going to do? Throw his anchor away? That would only benefit Will. “I will be fine,” he assured his daughter. “I’d be happy just to know that you are worrying about your own future.”

Abigail laughed again, and then slowly stood up so that she could wander closer to the display case. Her eyes widened, and she pressed her hand against the glass door, leaving smudges that Will could already predict would irritate Lecter. But Lecter seemed more focused by the wide eyed look of surprise on her face than on a few fingerprints. “Where did you get that bag?”

Will followed Lecter over to peer into the case, as if there was suddenly going to be some new piece that Will had never noticed before. “What do you find so interesting about it?”

It seemed like it took a great physical effort for Abigail to tear her eyes away from the bag that contained Will’s precious anchor. “That’s mine,” she whispered. “That night when everything went down, it was in my room. When you brought me back later to pack up my things, I searched for it everywhere, but I couldn’t find it, so I just assumed that the police had taken it as evidence at some point. But it’s right there. How is that even possible?”

“Are you sure that that’s your bag, Abigail? This is supposed to be a couple of thousand years old.”

She gave him the look of a teenager exasperated with something said by a member of an older generation. “Yes, I’m sure! My dad gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday!”

Lecter gently put his hands on her shoulders and guided her out of the room, murmuring soft words of comfort as they went. Will walked over to the case to look down at the bag that contained his anchor. He hadn’t recognized Abigail, because the last time he’d seen her, she’d been covered in her own blood and about to either bleed out or drown in her own blood.

It was a few minutes later that Lecter finally returned, and he put the gloves back on so that he could pull the bag out again. He held it up in front of Will’s face. “Perhaps there is some explanation for this that I would like to hear?”

Will shrugged. “Well, I don’t know if you’d like it or not, but I can tell you where I got that. I hadn’t meant to steal it, I just needed to get out in a hurry.” He nodded towards the doorway, as if that would be enough to indicate he was talking about Abigail. “Is her father Garrett Jacob Hobbs?”

“How do you know that name?” Lecter asked in a dangerous voice.

Will shivered, and was almost grateful to be dead already, because he had no doubt that this man was capable of causing him a great deal of pain otherwise. “I’m the one who killed him. See, originally, Abigail Hobbs died that night, killed by her own father just minutes after watching him kill her mother. I went there to save her, and I did, but I wasn’t supposed to be there. There are rules that need to be followed, and I broke several of those to save Abigail’s life. I had to flee before I could get caught. There were a few things I needed to bring with me, and I grabbed the first bag that I saw before getting out of there. I died within less than an hour after I got there. For me, that was thousands of years ago, so I hadn’t really given it much thought in a while.”

Lecter nodded once. “Well, in that case I thank you for saving Abigail’s life. Regardless of the unfortunate circumstances that led her to me, she is truly my daughter now, and I would not have that if she had perished.” He put the bag back, and Will felt some tension leave him at the idea that Lecter would actually listen to his request, and refrain from peeking into the bag. Will sat down, and watched Lecter leave the room, and then he turned his head to the side to look at the artwork. He’d be stuck here for a while, so he might as well get used to his new surroundings.

,,,

“I’m having a dinner party Saturday evening.”

Will raised one eyebrow. “Great. And I would care about this… why, exactly?”

Lecter frowned. “I would not like to put you in a situation where you might drop plates or give any of my guests too terrible of a fright. And since this dining room, as both of my guest rooms, will be occupied, I will be putting you in my room for the the weekend.”

Will shrugged. “Great.” Then he went back to what he had been in the middle of before the doctor interrupted. He had decided to count every brush stroke in every painting in the room, and since he had no oily fingers to ruin things with, Lecter didn’t care when he touched the art directly. 

It seemed like the doctor had been expecting some other kind of reaction, because he continued to stand there silently for a long several seconds before pulling on his gloves to grab the bag from the display case. He walked out of the room without another word, and Will found himself suddenly in the hallway. He still didn’t follow along, though, so he found himself suddenly in a bedroom. 

Will looked around the room, and then let out a soft snort before flopping down onto the bed. “You know what? This looks exactly like what I would expect from you.”

“Are you saying that you often think about where I sleep, Will?”

Will propped his head up on his hands, and crossed his legs at the ankles. It’s not like his shoes were going to get any dirt across the blankets, though he took great pleasure in the fact that it seemed to irk Lecter all the same. “It’s not like I’ve got much better things to do in my free time.” Then he rolled onto his side so that his back was facing towards the doctor.

Luckily, Lecter seemed to take the hint, and quickly left the room. Once he was gone, Will hopped back up, and began investigating the books that were lying around in the room. It had been a while since he’d had the opportunity to read anything besides the occasional left behind textbook. And while Lecter’s literary choices didn’t seem that much more interesting, at least they were something different.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been reading for when Lecter returned, and the man paused in the doorway for a moment. “I was not aware that you could read Italian.”

Will shrugged. “You never asked. I’ve been around for a really long time, remember?”

Lecter walked closer, though he didn’t try to sit down on the bed next to Will. “What part have you gotten to?”

This time Will actually bothered to look up from the pages, though he didn’t meet Lecter’s eyes. “It’s when Loraine decided that she was going to meet up with Arletta even though everyone is warning her that it’s probably a trap.”

“Do you think that it will turn out to be a trap, Will?”

Will shrugged. “Probably. It doesn’t seem like Arletta loves Loraine the way that Loraine loves her. She seems to find Loraine’s love to be a nuisance more than anything. I don’t think she’d care at all about setting Loraine up for failure.”

Lecter made a thoughtful humming noise. “I suppose you will just have to continue reading to find out one way or the other what will happen.” And then he began stripping off his clothes right in the middle of the room.

Will was so glad that he was dead, because it meant that there was no blood rushing to his face as he quickly turned around so that he wouldn’t be watching the man get dressed. He held the book up far closer to his face than necessary, even though it was suddenly very difficult to focus on the words in front of him.

,,,

“Was this really necessary?”

There was no anger apparently in Lecter’s voice, but Will could read faces well enough to see the hot fury that was buried beneath the icy facade. He followed Lecter’s gaze over to the shards of shattered glass that were all over the floor, along with the stain from where the cologne had leaked out everywhere. Will just shrugged, and fought to keep his voice steady. “Loraine died. All she ever wanted was to be loved, and she died for that, while Arletta got to skip off into the sunset with her rich husband and everyone believing that Loraine was the bad guy all along.”

There was a pause, and then Lecter let out a loud chuckle. “It is a very tragic ending to the tale, I agree. Though it does not come out of nowhere. You had already observed that Arletta did not love Loraine, and it was made quite clear that Loraine would do anything to protect those she loved. But perhaps there is something to be learned from the story.”

“Yeah, that gay people are villainized and murdered when straight people realize that someone of the same gender has a crush on them.”

Lecter slowly walked over to Will, and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “That book was written two hundred years ago.”

“And yet it’s somehow no less relevant now.” Will crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the wall. “If you bring me a broom, I’ll clean up the mess. It’s not like I have to worry about getting cut on the sharp edges.”

Lecter nodded. “Of course I expect you to clean the mess that you made, but it can wait for a few minutes. I think that it might be beneficial for you to hear more about the author, first. It may shed some light on the decisions that she makes for her characters.”

Will hesitated for a moment, then sank down onto the bed. “Alright, I’m listening. But if you don’t explain it well enough then I’m going to demand you get me some internet in here so that I can look these things up for myself.”

Lecter grinned. “I do hope that my words will be able to impress, then.”

,,,

‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ were the words that Will typed across Abigail’s computer screen. Since being moved into Lecter’s room, Will hadn’t seen the young woman at all. But today, she’d snuck into the bedroom to grab the bag, making a triumphant noise as she finally found it. She muttered something about having been searching for it for months, and then brought it back to her own room. At least she wore gloves, though it was clear that she didn’t understand why it was necessary when she knew the bag to be only a few years old.

She had been in the middle of working on a short story, which was actually pretty good so far, though definitely very dark. Then she’d suddenly gotten up and left, which is when Will had read her work, and then added his little question at the end. After that, it was just about waiting patiently for her to return.

Abigail settled onto her bed and pulled her computer onto her lap, and then seemed to freeze as she was the last line. She looked around the room, and then back at the computer. She deleted the question, and then kept working. Will frowned, and then grabbed one of the pillows she was leaning against, which made her fall back slightly, but more importantly, from her point of view it would look as though the pillow had just completely disappeared.

The girl’s face seemed to be drained of all blood, and she reached up to brush her fingers over the scarf that was wrapped around her neck to hide the scar that must’ve been left behind by such a brutal act against her. “Dad?” she whispered.

Will didn’t want to traumatize the poor girl, he just wanted someone to talk to besides Lecter. It was crazy that he could go thousands of years with basically no human contact at all, but a few months with someone who could see him, and he was suddenly greedy for more. Will pulled her laptop towards him so that he could type out, ‘No, I’m the one who killed that monster’

Abigail stared at her computer like it was about to jump up and bite her, and then read the new words there once before gulping. “Are you really a ghost?”

Will grinned at how easy that had been, and grabbed at her laptop to type some more. ‘Yes, and right now Lecter is the only one who can see me and hear me, which makes things pretty lonely for me, since I’m sure that you know how he can be sometimes. I’m glad to know that you’re alright after what your dad did to you.’

Abigail gulped around, and then looked around, somehow figuring out that it wasn’t the computer itself that was haunted, even if it probably did look like it was just constant flickering in and out of existence. “Thank you for saving my life. What’s your name?”

‘Will’ he typed out quickly.

“Will. I like it. Well, thanks for saving my life, Will.”

She couldn’t say anything else, though, because the door to her room suddenly swung open, and Lecter peered in, looking immediately relieved when he spotted both Will and Abigail. His shoulders slumped down, and then he gave Abigail a stern look. “Did you take that bag from my room?”

The guilty look on her face gave her away so quickly that there was definitely no point in denying it. “It’s my bag,” she insisted. “I should be allowed to have it.”

“It is her bag,” Will agreed.

Lecter’s eyes flicked over to Will for just a second before focusing bag on Abigail. “Let me have it back for three more days, and then I promise that I will give it to you to keep.”

Abigail narrowed her eyes. “Why do you even need it?” Then her eyes widened, and she suddenly looked back and forth between the bag and her computer. She was a clever girl, and could apparently make the connection between the only new thing in her room and the day that she started being haunted. “The bag has to do with Will, doesn’t it?”

She seemed equally triumphant and amazed when Lecter actually reacted to that. “How did you…?” Then he walked closer so that he could see the computer screen before Abigail could close it. He turned to Will. “You must know that I cannot allow you to stay in my teenage daughter’s bedroom.”

“Then why’d you say you’d give me my bag back?” Abigail challenged him immediately. 

Lecter sighed, looking quite tired. “Will’s connection isn’t the bag itself, but something inside. So far he has not permitted me to look, but if he allowed his anchor to be removed from the bag, then you’re free to keep it, though I would prefer if you left it in the case downstairs for the sake of keeping it well preserved.”

Will frowned. “That’s just low, Dr. Lecter. Of course I don’t want to disappoint Abigail.” He sighed as well, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. But empty it out in your room, and don’t let her watch.”

Lecter agreed, and they quickly returned to his bedroom. He pulled on his gloves and then opened the bag, carefully reaching in to remove the contents. He tilted his head curiously, but didn’t say anything about the seven bullets that were on top, and then the pocket watch that had been tucked beneath them. “Is that everything?” Will nodded silently, and then Lecter left to return the bag to Abigail, who seemed very curious about what was going on.

But Will ignored the sound of voices in the hallway, and instead knelt down on top of the covers, looking carefully at the items scattered before him. He hadn’t seen any of them in 2300 years, and he felt like there was a lump in his throat as he looked at them now. First Will picked up the watch, which he quickly shoved into his pocket. He didn’t think Lecter was going to fight him over it.

As for the bullets, Will wasn’t actually sure which one was his anchor, or if it was all of them. So he reached out to pick them up one at a time, and found that he could easily pick up the first three, but the fourth one was impossible. So that one was his anchor. He waited for Lecter to return to the room. “I guess it’s that one.”

Lecter nodded, and then went and found a small wooden box. He took out the set of cufflinks that had been nestled inside, and put in the one bullet that Will had pointed out, then hesitated. “Should I put the rest in here as well, or would you like them in a separate container?” Will just shrugged, and Lecter put the rest in. “I can remove them at a different time if you would like.”

“I can remove them myself,” Will muttered. “I just can’t move the container.”

They were both silent as Lecter put the box on a small shelf in the back of his closet, and then turned to face Will. “You said that anchors were something important enough to tie the dead to this world. What is so important about a bullet?”

Will sighed, looked down at his knees. “Hobbs was not the first person that I killed, not by a long shot. But he was the first person I killed that went against all of the rules. I did everything that we were always told not to do, just because I knew that it was the right thing. More right than silently standing by and letting it happen. I may not have died in that kitchen, but I died while running away. So I guess for a long time, I looked at it as proof that I made the wrong choice. That doing the ‘right’ thing would just get you killed. But now I don’t know how I’m supposed to look at it. I just know that that bullet- which is probably the first one I fired into Hobbs- is a sign of my first, and last, act of rebellion.”

If Lecter remembered the pocket watch, he didn’t say anything about it. “That sounds like you were in a very difficult situation. Thank you for sharing that with me. And thank you again for saving Abigail’s life.” Then he left the room, clearly sensing Will’s need to just be on his own for the moment.

,,,

“-and then I came to Baltimore, to start my life over again.”

Will smiled as he used a fork to move the food around on his plate. He couldn’t actually eat it, since he was dead and all, but he could appreciate the delicious smell, and the fact that Hannibal had brought him to the dining room to have dinner with him and Abigail. Abigail seemed slightly put off by the third plate at the table, and the times that Hannibal direction conversation towards Will instead of her, but overall, she seemed to handle it very well. “That’s pretty amazing,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to start telling you my life story.”

“It would be only fair,” Hannibal pointed out, as if either of them had ever cared about what was fair. “But I won’t push the issue,” he continued. 

Will’s smile didn’t disappear. “How kind of you.” 

He helped wash up the dishes after dessert, and figured that Hannibal had put the bullet into his pocket or something. Then they retired back to Hannibal’s room. “What did you think of dinner?”

“It was fun. Thank you for letting me join you.”

Hannibal gave a slight shrug. “It seemed to be small payment for how many riveting conversations you have given me.” He pulled the bullet out of the inside pocket of his jacket, and put it back into the cufflink box before leaving the room. He returned quickly with a new book in his hand. “You should try this one. I think that you might like it.”

Will accepted the book. “Thanks. I’ll get started on it tomorrow.” Personally, Will found quite a lot of Hannibal’s books to be boring. But what he did enjoy was the conversations that they had once Will finished each one. Hannibal had such a unique way of looking at each story and each character, and also seemed to enjoy hearing Will’s own thoughts on every component of the book. He got the feeling that even though Hannibal wasn’t a ghost, he’d been just as lonely for company as Will had.

,,,

As a ghost, Will couldn’t actually sleep. Though when he was tired and wanted to get away from everything, he would close his eyes, and go somewhere deep in his mind. Usually a nice stream that he would stand in wearing waders, peacefully fishing. He had a great imagination, and could practically feel the splashes of water against his skin, and hear the sound of the wind passing through the leaves of the nearby trees. 

It was while he was in the middle of his fishing that he suddenly found himself out in the hallway with Abigail. She was walking quickly, down the stairs, and then out the front door. Will breathed in the fresh air, before turning to look at the girl in confusion. “What’s going on?”

She had a determined look on her face, and even though she wasn’t genetically related to Hannibal, Will had no doubt that she was his daughter. “It isn’t fair to keep you locked up forever just because Dad likes you. He’s got a lot of flaws, but not so many that he wouldn’t be able to get a date if he really tried, and it isn’t fair to keep you here just because you seem ‘perfect’ to him. I know you can’t carry this yourself,” and she held up the bullet that was his anchor, “but I’ll bring you wherever you want to go. You have more freedom outside, right?”

Will hesitated for a moment. Leaving without even saying goodbye to Hannibal seemed cruel. But on the other hand, he probably wouldn’t ever get an opportunity like this again. If he stayed with Hannibal until the man died, then he could end up shuffled up to some museum or another, where he’d be stuck for another who knows how long. He pulled Abigail into a hug. “Thank you for this. But I’m only going to ask you to take me so far, because I don’t want you to know where I end up.”

They got on a bus together, and traveled to the very last stop on the route. Then they got out, and Will instructed Abigail to pay a random person to take the bullet and bury it somewhere not in that town. Then they hugged one last time before Abigail headed back home, and Will followed the lady with his anchor.

She drove two towns over, and carefully buried the bullet beneath one of the roses outside of her neighbor’s home. Will sighed as he breathed in the feeling of freedom. So long as no one ever found that damn artifact, Will would be free to go anywhere in the world, so long as it was outside. But since the elements didn’t affect him and he had no need for food or sleep, that was still a pretty amazing deal for him.

It wasn’t until he started walking out of town that he realized he’d left his pocket watch behind. He’d found it weird to carry it around in his pocket anywhere, and decided that he’d trusted Hannibal enough to leave it tucked away somewhere in that bedroom. He was probably never going to see it again, and honestly wasn’t sure whether it was the pocket watch that he didn’t want to lose, or Hannibal. 

,,,

Will was sitting at an outdoor cafe, enjoying the crisp fall air, and the bright blue sky above. It was weird to be back in France after so many years. A lot had changed about it, but he was grateful for change, because it meant that there were new things to explore.

As he sat there, someone else seemed to appear in front of him out of nowhere. Even after not having seen that in such a long time, Will still felt used to it enough to not be startled by it. And of course, no one else around him seemed to notice the sudden appearance at all. The man raised one eyebrow. “Will. I was not expecting to find you here.”

Will shrugged. “I died pretty close by. I guess I was feeling somewhat sentimental.” He could see the other question on the man’s face, and tilted up one corner of his mouth into a wry grin. “I’m not going to tell you when it was. I don’t need you showing up and making the whole thing even worse than it already was.”

“I might offer to save your life. You always assume the worst of me.”

Will laughed. “Is there any reason that I shouldn’t? You did try to hunt me down at the Hobbs.”

The man nodded once, looking tired. “I know. I didn’t want to do it, but unlike you, when I’m given orders, I’m prone to actually following them. Rules exist for a reason, Will. If we went and saved everyone we came across, our job would never end. Or maybe it would be over immediately, hell if I know.”

They were both silent for a moment to think about that. “I didn’t know you could see ghosts,” Will finally said. 

The man nodded again. “I suppose it never came up. Would you have even believed me if I’d told you about it?”

“Probably not.” Will leaned back in his seat, giving the other man a long look. “So what happens now?”

“Nothing happens. You’re dead; you’re not exactly fit to be arrested and thrown in jail. I’m not sure that any of the higher ups would believe it anyways. I’ve yet to meet anyone else in the ranks who can see the dead the way that I can.”

Will blinked a few times. That hadn’t been the answer he’d expected. “You mean I’m free?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, you’re free Will. Go out and do whatever the hell you want, now that there’s nothing stopping you.” He stood up, and stretched his arms up over his head, causing small cracking noises from his shoulders. “I’ll see you around, Will.” Then he walked away, leaving Will alone to bask in the idea that he was really, truly free.

,,,

Hannibal came home to a foreign silence. He felt like he must have suddenly gone deaf, or something along those lines, because the silence seemed to be growing louder by the minute. Hannibal went into the kitchen first, grabbing one of the bigger knives so that he could be prepared to defend himself against whatever dangers he might find in his house. 

He took off his shoes so that his feet would make no noise as he checked each room, and then headed upstairs. Even though he knew that Will was already dead and couldn’t be hurt, he still feared the worst. 

He pushed the bedroom door open, and there was no one there. It wasn’t an immediate cause for alarm, since he knew that sometimes Abigail would sneak in to steal Will away for a couple of hours, but he got the feeling that that wasn’t the case this time. He checked Abigail’s room next, but she definitely wasn’t there.

Hannibal returned to his own room. The latest book Will had been reading was still lying on top of the bed, one of the pages folded down to mark Will’s place. No matter how many bookmarks Hannibal offered the man, he insisted on defacing the books, and it seemed to be for the sole purpose of infuriating Hannibal. 

He walked over to the closet and saw that the cufflink box was still there. Which was odd, because whenever Abigail did take Will around the house, she would take the whole box. And she wouldn’t dare to take him out of the house, because Hannibal had warned her multiple times not to.

Hannibal went over to his sock drawer in the dresser, and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. A very old, beaten up looking pocket watch. It meant too much for Will to ever just leave it behind. Just in case, he stuck in his pocket as he headed back down to the kitchen. Hopefully it meant that Will would have to go right to Hannibal when he realized that it was missing. 

It was after dark when he heard the front door open. “I’m in the kitchen,” he called out lightly, trying to remain calm. Abigail shuffled in, a blank look on her face. Will wasn’t with her. “Where were you today? Where’s Will?”

She narrowed her eyes, but otherwise remained expressionless. “Will’s gone.”

Hannibal froze in place, and gave Abigail a hard look. “Gone where?”

“Just gone. And he’s not coming back. This is what’s best for everyone.” Her eyes flicked down nervously towards the knife in Hannibal’s hand, and she took a small step back. “It was the right thing to do.” Then she all but fled, not that Hannibal could blame her. He was feeling rather murderous at the moment. 

He slowly pulled out the pocket watch with his free hand, and looked down at it. He’d never given it a close look before, trying to respect Will’s privacy. But maybe it would hold some clue about where Will may have gone. He popped it open after a slight struggle, and saw a series of seemingly random numbers engraved on the inside of the cover. Of course none of the hands were moving, and it didn’t have the soft ticking noise of a working timepiece.

Hannibal pulled out the stem, curious about whether he could make it work again, perhaps with a change of batteries, but as soon as the small knob popped out, the kitchen seemed to melt away, and suddenly Hannibal was standing in the middle of nowhere. He clutched his knife tightly as he looked around.

He’d known that Will was a time traveler, but Will had never revealed to him what his method was. Hannibal was pretty sure that he’d just found it. And if it was still set to the same time as it had been when Will had used it last, then he was standing in the past by a couple thousand years. 

He was only standing around for a couple of minutes when suddenly there was someone standing in front of him. Hannibal recognized the flannel shirt and dark, messy hair, though there was almost a strange glow to Will’s skin while he was alive. Hannibal wondered if this meant that the watch moved a person’s location as well as their time.

Hannibal only had a few seconds to process what all of this meant. He was looking at a Will who was still alive, presumably 2300 years ago, and possibly in France. If Will got away now, then Hannibal would never get the chance to meet him. So before Will could run away, or turn around to see who was behind him, Hannibal thrust his knife forward into Will’s back, driving it in as deeply as he could. 

Will fell forward onto the dusty ground, and Hannibal yanked the knife out. He watched as Will tried to crawl away. It didn’t matter. Hannibal knew that the man wouldn’t get very far. Will was making choked noises as he spat his own blood out onto the ground, and his breaths were coming so rapidly that they were only making him bleed out even quicker. 

Hannibal followed slowly behind, knowing that Will must feel terrified by the idea of his attacker stalking him. But he didn’t try to stab again. He needed the clothes to remain as intact as possible, or else Will’s body would never be seen as something interesting enough to wind up in the particular university that it had. He waited patiently, and though it was tricky to tell time without a functioning watch on hand, he guessed that about half an hour or so passed before Will heaved out his last breath, and then stopped moving. 

Hannibal knelt next to the body to check for a pulse, and when he found none, he gave a small nod of satisfaction. Then he pulled out the pocket watch that had brought him here, and fiddled around with the dial. He’d figure out how to get home eventually. And when he did, he would find Will, and bring him home too, whether Will wanted to go or not.


End file.
